I’ve had a two-week break. Starting again feels harder than I expected. There’s a temptation to try to catch up, make up for lost time, or wait until I feel ready. But I don’t need to wait. I just need to begin again.

So today, on the school run, stepping out with my phone, looking for just one nice photo to anchor my thoughts. I found a vibrant stalk of purple toadflax growing near a cluster of mushrooms. The contrast was a beautiful, quiet lesson in creativity.

When you pause your creativity for two weeks, it’s easy to feel like you’ve been standing completely still. But the mushrooms reminded me of a deeper truth. Mushrooms are just the visible fruit of a massive, hidden network of mycelium working tirelessly under the soil. Even when nothing is growing on the surface, the underground is busy processing, absorbing, and converting nutrients. My two-week break wasn’t wasted time; my brain was just doing the quiet, subconscious composting I needed to be ready to write again.

And the purple toadflax? It’s the ultimate symbol of stubborn resilience. It’s the plant that refuses to wait for perfect conditions, famously cracking through concrete, gravel, and neglected school-run pathways just to reach for the sun. Seeing its bright violet flowers blooming right out of the rough ground felt like a direct message: You don’t need a grand, perfect setting to begin again. You just need to break through the surface.

There is no lost time to chase down. The words have been brewing, and the ground is ready.

Start. Finish. Notice.